Through their Eyes: The Remastered
by Phuripat
Summary: Gundam 00 told from a different perspective, this time it's from the three soldiers of the UNION, HRL and AEU as they battled Celestial Being from the beginning to the bitter end. AU. Note:This is an upgrade to the original Through their Eyes after it became an epic failure.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam 00 but I do own the OC.**

* * *

 **4th October 2307 A.D**

 **Joint US-Taribian Military Exercise, Taribia**

 **Master Sergeant Sofia Fortuna**

 **Taribian Defense Force**

 **4th Wing, 13th Squadron**

The Joint US-Taribia Military Games were being held in Taribia this year. A yearly event and one that had benefited both countries greatly by expanding the friendship between the two nations. One of the final events was a mock duel between the two top aces in both forces, an old thing to be sure, and one that was mainly done for fun. Of course it was no longer sporting, the Taribians had basically given up after the third decade of continuous wins by the US. The higher ups had stopped caring about it and it was mostly turned into a very informal event for the two sides to mingle and drink beers together. It had turned into a giant barbeque by the fifth decade, and was a time for both sides to celebrate their friendship and do some fighting, joint maneuvers, and training.

In the process of checking my Realdo, the major called me up, "Hey Sofia!" He called out as he drew near. Wiping my hands clean of oil, we refrained from a formal salute, him calling me by my first name meant he wanted it "locked off".

Smiling at him, I nodded my head, "What's up boss?" I asked innocently enough, leaning against my suit.

"Command wants to make use of your skills again. One of the US aces has been ripping our guys apart faster than usual, they're hoping you can put up a better fight and maintain our professionalism. It's starting to impact morale and professionalism between both sides." He explained as he observed a tablet in his hands, a beer in the other.

"Mock battle?" I asked for clarification, sighing.

"Yup." Taking a swig of his bottle he added, "Do your best will ya? We have a loss ratio of 0:120 already. It might pick up the our spirits if you won for a change." The Taribian military had been plagued with poor morale for decades now, combined with a spiraling military track record, and securing a win this year would do wonders to pick up our morale indeed.

"Yes sir, I'll put in a 120% sir. I'll do it." I said, bored. For the sake of Taribian Defense Force's honor, why shouldn't I?

"Taribia's in your debt..." He spoke with exhaustion in his voice.

* * *

I was walking to my Realdo when I saw a Taribian Realdo get blown up by an American FLAG suit. Sighing, it wasn't an unexpected loss, truly gifted Taribian pilots were often picked up by the special services and the main UNION defense force. Since the US had a larger population and manufacturing capacity compared to Taribia's provinces of Guyana and Venezuela which didn't have much of a military tradition anyways. This translated into the present situation after decades of the public's neglect of the military.

When I walked past a trio of American operators, I overheard them speaking...

"The Taribians sucks at this." An officer with blond hair spoke loudly.

"It's getting pathetic, I took one of them down in less than two minutes!" The other operator, with black hair, replied.

"Who can blame them? They're considered cannon fodder even by their own people. It's no wonder they can't fight a worth a damn, they're considered third rate troops for a reason." The third one wearing glasses joined in the conversation.

I was almost out of earshot when I heard more, "Hey do you see that woman over there?" The man with the black hair said to the blond one.

"Yeah?"

"She's the one your dueling."

"I bet you 10 bucks that I will take her down in 3 minutes!" The Blond replied arrogantly.

Burning with fury at their disparaging remarks, 'I'll show them, I'll prove them wrong.' I thought to myself as I walked towards the preparation area.

* * *

Half an hour later

I had already boarded my Realdo, taxiing onto the runway. The mechanic had climbed onto my suit to ensure everything was good manually before giving me an affirmative symbol and climbed off. "Hydraulics good, weapons good, engines good, no outer light, you're good to go." He announced.

"Flight control this is Tiger 1-1 requesting permission for takeoff." I radioed the control tower.

"Permission granted Tiger 1-1, you are cleared for takeoff. Stay safe and good luck. Control Tower out." Upon receiving confirmation, I gunned my plasma jets, skimming along the tarmac before rocketing up into the air. After launching right into the air I entered the dueling airspace, preparing, my radar detected an American Flag.

After I knew that it was a Flag, I quickly changed my Realdo to suit mode, to better engage in the dual. I know I will have to play this carefully, to make him overconfident and defeat him mentally, not physically.

"Come on Ms. Taribia, let's get this over with. I got dinner to eat!" The video link showed me the Flag pilot, the cocky blond American from before.

He changed his Flag to MS mode as well, and charged towards me at full speed while firing his linear rifles, I quickly turned around and deflected the fired shots with a defense rod.

"Just die already!" The golden haired pilot yelled angrily, as he drew out his sonic blade and charged towards my Realdo.

'I wonder if he realizes I'm recording this.' I thought, that comment alone was enough to get him grounded with a reprimand and a disciplinary hearing. The US-Taribian Military games were supposed to be friendly. If this got out, it could cause a riot, the US military would lose face, 'oh yeah, he is definitely fucked.' The lack of professionality alone would get him in trouble.

Using my linear blade, I parried his sonic blade away, he countered by accelerating upward, breaking the parry and flying above me, aiming to strike my suit's head.

"It's over bitch!" He yelled out triumphantly, 'Another strike on your permanent record.' I added to my previous thoughts, as he accelerated his Flag downward to strike with the full force of his suit's weight and strength.

I knew this was my moment, he had gotten reckless, believing me to be a simple low grade pilot. Before the Flag's blade reached my Realdo, I launched all my missiles available at his Flag, with no time for his computers to even register the launch, the missiles closed the mere meters of distance with lightning quickness, impacting his Flag's chassis, launching him away with the power of several rockets, before the rocket's reached minimum safe distance and exploded barely ten meters away. In seconds, I had ended the fight, score 1 for Taribia.

* * *

15 minutes later

I was numb with disbelief. I didn't feel my arms as they took a mind of their own. Skidding to a stop on the tarmac, everyone was stunned, quiet, and when I disengaged my suit's armored cowlings to allow me to exit, there was suddenly a few claps, before it cascaded into a full blown cavalcade of cheers, clapping, and shouts of joy.

"Sofia! Sofia! Sofia! Sofia!" The crowd chanted with joy. I had won. Something like this could not be adequately described to an outsider, this alone would be getting me earmarked for UNION special forces, and the evidence I had in my suit would get the opposing pilot in deep shit for poor behaviour. Not to mention his poor form during the battle would get his drill instructors in a fury. As I passed a few American officers who had watched the battle in control room, a mixture of emotions were on their faces, the two most powerful were respect, and intrigue.

* * *

 **6th October 2307 A.D**

 **AEU Orbital Elevator Base**

 **2nd Lieutenant Isabelle Carelle**

 **AEU Orbital Elevator Defense Force "Task Force La Tour"**

 **6th Orbital Elevator Defense Squadron**

I'd been overviewing the daily maintenance of my Hellion with my chief engineer, when one of my friends had called me over. It was a calm day at La Tour, AEU's orbital elevator. For an African climate, being sunny was usually the least of your worries.

"Hey Carelle, come and take a look at this!" My friend called to me. It was 1000 hours, the scheduled time for testing of the AEU's next generation mobile suit. I quickly ran out of the hanger to the runway, to where everyone else was standing with binoculars, observing the new toy as it zoomed across the sky, almost out of visual range.

It was shocking when I saw the machine, it was painted similar to the Union's Flag, but more stylish and tinted in aquamarine

"What kind of Suit is that?" I asked one of my friends.

"AEU-09 Enact, brand new model, fresh out of the workshops apparently." My friend answered shortly. "It's going to be replacing the Hellion model eventually, and will hopefully allow us to stay in the game against UNION and HRL."

"When's it scheduled for general deployment?" I asked curiously.

"Don't you read the briefings Izzy? Or even watch the news?" Having a chuckle at my expense, making me blush, he sighed, "This one is reserved for an ace, it's estimated that they will make enough for general use in around 5 years. But until then, it's strictly special force, and elite units only." My friend answered as we watched the Enact take down 2 target balloons.

"Command's dropped some hints to the public about this beauty, today is the public showing for it. I'm sure it being on HRL's 10th anniversary will get the message across. Sure will be a clear message to the world, we aren't an underdog anymore."

"Heads up! What the hell-?!" The maintenance officer next to me shouted aloud.

Tearing my eyes away from the show before me, I looked to the source of the warning and saw a Mobile Suit colored in a white basecoat with a blue chest floating in the air near the Enact. It looked nothing like an AEU, UNION or HRL design. No camera, no camouflage, big giant sword….. Wait a minute...

"Hey... is that one ours?" I asked the same friend of mine, my voice dripped with worry.

"No, definitely not..." He said, as realization dawned on us both. We were about to call alarm.

Suddenly we heard a loud explosion and when I turned back I saw a landed Enact lying on the ground, both of its hand mounts and its head cut off.

"What the fuck just happened!" I asked one of my friends in a demanding tone as everyone started to look around wildly for the source of the attack. However I was looking right at the source of the damage

"That suit just took down the Enact easily, what the fuck is that!"

The air raid warning siren started to scream all over the base, "Attention! ATTENTION! We are under attack! This is not a drill, all units are ordered get scrambled and engage the unidentified suit! This is not a drill I repeat this is not a drill!" The speakers screamed out as the base commander nearly panicked. The base itself was a vital strategic location for the AEU, with a permanent garrison of Mobile Suits, Special Attack Aircraft, and large amounts of tanks and Infantry, with QRF Aircraft patrols and nearby bases literally minutes away in case of an attack. All of that meant nothing to me as I saw people running around in organized chaos or just to get the hell out of the way.

I sprinted to the hanger where my Hellion was, the sounds of jet engines roaring was heard throughout the base, my ground team had just finished doing the daily maintenance and were in the hasty process of fueling and arming my Hellion with whatever they could find. I slipped on my flight suit over my normal jumper and slid into the cockpit turning on my craft, getting jumpy and jittery in anticipation for me to get the fuck out of the hanger and not be a sitting duck.

After my crew chief ran in front of me and started to wave a yellow flag I called to control, "Control this is Striker 1-2 requesting permission to take off."

"Permission granted Striker 1-2 you are cleared for take off!" The control tower radioed me back.

Upon receiving permission from the control tower I started my plasma jets and jumped a few meters in the air. Seeing a formation of five Hellions scrambling on the runway, I exited the Hanger and started my lift off process followed by four other Hellions. "This is Striker-lead, all units engage the unidentified suit. I don't think it needed clarification but better safe than sorry." My Squadron leader announced.

"Roger." I replied to him on the radio, and turned my suit and joined another pair of Hellions in a V shape combat formation, zooming towards the attacking suit.

We were immediately in range of the unknown suit, firing our Linear rifles, the round seemed to just hit but had zero effect on the suit. As we overshot our target, having accelerated to several hundred meters a few seconds in our suits, the opponent turned around and unfolded it's sword, immediately launching forward as fast as lightning, severing one of the arms mounts off my nearby wingmmates. The reaction speed for such an attack was currently impossible with any form of Earth tech, and its ability to immediately accelerate several hundred meters a second from a standstill almost broke my morale. Cunningham, my wingman, pulled off from our attack run, his unit's careful balanced destabilized, forcing him to land to the safety of the ground.

"What the fuck are we fighting?! Nothing can move that fast without pulping the pilot!" My other wingman, Krüger, shrieked out in terror on the general comm. So that was how it got the grounded Enact.

"All Squadrons, keep a minimum distance of one Kilometer! Stay as far away from it as possible! Don't get close, it only has short ranged weaponry! Linear Rifles are also ineffective, switch to heavy ordnance and missiles if you have it." My squadron leader announced on general comm. As we all tried to scurry out of the things range and kill it from a distance. More Hellions had deployed, with nearby jet patrols zooming within missile range and dozens of more suits hot on their heels as well, as we all formed a noose around its neck.

"No matter where it came from, even it can't beat all of us! Now where the fuck are those Triple A defences?!" My squadron leader yelled to us on the radio. Indeed, no matter how good it was, it was now badly outnumbered and outgunned, and it was only going to get worse as we deployed our anti suit tank defences, alongside dozens more Hellions from the nearby airstrips. If it could kill us all, then I'd gladly bow down to whoever made it.

As we began to circle around the unknown like sharks, a pink beam came from the ground and hit one of the Hellions in the middle of the suit, turning it into a fireball.

"Now what!?" One of the Hellion pilots shouted in confusion.

I knew something was up now, I immediately started my afterburner but before I could do anything more, my vision turned pink and then I'm falling from the sky. Activating my afterburners saved my life as it threw off the aim of the laser, but it still caught me in the engines and now I was in an uncontrolled free fall. Instead of dying instantly, now I'll die by impacting the Earth. Fucking typical.

"This is Striker 1-2 mayday, mayday going down!" I screamed to the radio hoping someone would hear it, but I also knew that it was irrelevant either way, there was nothing anyone could safely do to save my suit, but I could still save myself. I was trained for this! First I was to manage my uncontrolled spin. Now no longer feeling like I was about to throw up, I pulled up as best I could, angling my descent from a full plummet to at least 40 degree angle. I reflexively turned off my afterburners, a useless gesture since my engines were destroyed, and reduced speed so the airfoils on my suit angled to increase drag. Next I activated my airbrakes, their squealing from the heat and protest at opening a comforting sound, then finally I activated my parachute for my suit, and turned on the shock gel to up my chances of survival and perhaps even future ambulatory-ness.

Then I braced, squealing unashamedly like a little girl and proceeded to have my life flash before my eyes. The day I was pranked by my friend at elementary school, the day I joined the army, the day I visited my mother at the hospital. It seemed like every moment of my life begin to pour into my brain.

"I can't die here," I said to myself, "I won't die here!" I steeled myself. Finally after what felt like eternity, but was only a few tens of seconds, I angled myself up so that I was nearly parallel with the ground, still falling, I lowered my landing gear, and praying…. Crashing to the ground, snapping my landing gear, and skidding with loud shrieks of protesting metal. By the time I stopped skidding, holding tightly to my seat, almost so much that I thought my skin would peel from the bone, If it weren't for the shock resistant gel I would have been thrown about my cockpit like a rag doll. Instead of getting pulped to meat, I only felt a few of my bones break on impact. The second I stopped moving, every single vehicle rushed out of the hangar to rescue my thoroughly totalled Hellion. The last sound I heard before I became unconscious was the sound of a siren...

* * *

 **6th October 2307 A.D**

 **HRL Orbital Elevator "Tenchū"**

 **Warrant Officer Somchai Chokdi**

 **HRL Orbital Elevator Defense Force**

 **3rd Orbital Unit**

I was sitting at my desk doing paperwork. Fucking paperwork on a holiday! Today was the 10th anniversary of the Human Reform League. We are supposed to have fun! Not work!

"4,000 cubic meters of liquid hydrogen, 20,000 rounds of 200x25mm ammunition….. Why the fuck are WE doing this? We're a combat unit, not logistics. Why don't those asshats do it instead of us! Everyone is at the party and we're here doing a bunch of paperwork?!" I complained. My Korean friend, Warrant Officer Lee, nodded in agreement. He wasn't happy about this either. I was about to finish the last documents then head home and have some beers with Lee, when the alarm intercom came to life.

"Three unidentified mobile suits detected, coming in fast! Defense Force Three is to scramble immediately." The loudspeakers announced, the alarm started screaming all over the station as me and Lee ran to the locker room, changed to our HRL flight suits, before running out to the hangar. There, the ground crew was at my Tieren's cockpit, checking the equipment and fuel. "All units, all units! Report to your vehicles, we are under attack! This is not a drill!" The intercom added, as we finally reached our suits. The situation just got substantially worse.

"Damn it! Of all things. They had to target the ceremony!" The First Lieutenant yelled out angrily to a trainee. It seemed that the attack had interrupted his own party, and he wasn't happy.

"B-But sir, I only have 120 hours of training in space." One of my squadron members complained. He was the new guy, and was so new in fact that he barely had any experience in even simulated combat. Why he was chosen was anyone's guess. To even get considered to pilot the multi-million dollar suits, you needed years of life experience in the military, exemplary scores of everything, complete and undying loyalty to your country and the league, stable emotional state, and a whole host of other checks to get you even considered for the HRL Orbital Defense Force. If the kid preformed badly today, and he survived, he'd be ejected from the Orbital Defense Force permanently and transferred to a ground unit, if he was lucky. If unlucky, he would be dishonorably discharged.

"We'll just don't die and do what you're told!" The lieutenant replied tersely while he went towards the Tieren's cockpit, he was simply not in the mood to hear the complaints of anyone.

"There isn't time to change your equipment!" The head mechanic reported to us all as I slipped into the cockpit. The Hellions were closing in fast, and the only thing they managed to do was reload the 200mm cannons, and a half-done refueling.

"Well get some replacements for our weapons! We won't last long out here with just our cannons! We'll hold them off long enough for reinforcements then retreat for refit!" The flight lieutenant replied before he got through the hatch on the chest of his Tieren. After I got into the cockpit, I also connected my helmet to the Tieren and linked my HUDs to the Tieren's visual tube which linked the pilot to the Tieren's eye on its head, and the various cameras on its body. I love piloting a Tieren, sure the thing is sluggish, uses outdated conventional weapons, and the visual feeds were rather glitchy. But man, the reliability! The thing can work in almost every environment. I could count the times that I saw a Tieren broke down with one hand. This thing was light years ahead in reliability compared to the Union's Flag and Realdo and even the famous AEU Hellion were less reliable. There was some scuttlebutt on a project whose objective was replacing the screenless cockpit with a more digitalized one, but I never got any more word than that, the only ones who would get the upgrade anyways would have been elite units.

After we all got into our suits, the hanger platform rose up and went on a track to the nearby space elevator. After a few status checks we ran onto the circular freight elevator, and we all braced for the G forces of us very quickly ascending into orbit. "No problem with the photoreceptors, gun loaded, no problem with fire control, water pressure in first and second tank, 50%. I'm good to go." I announced to the flight, as everyone else also made final checks.

"Maximum allowance in B3 Area, 300 seconds until secondary team is scrambled. Lure the unknown force from B3 noncombat area. Command to all units, 287 seconds until unknowns reach the pillar." Flight control radioed us as we ascended and rushed into deep space to intercept the incoming Hellions.

"All units, control attitude, block the enemy's route." The flight lieutenant ordered as my suit's thruster was temporarily shut down. Something that would only happen to an unmaintained thruster. Cursing I rerouted and restarted it, releasing a sigh of relief as it flared to life once more, fucking fuel injector was sticking again. The mobile suits were finally identified as three AEU Hellions with a box for unknown purposes. Possibly an MRL system to pump out even more fire. The hanger then opened and we all rushed out.

Suddenly the Hellions banked and changed course, "The enemy has changed course!" I announced as I armed my my 200mm and 20mms.

"Damn it! They're hiding behind the ring of the orbital elevator!" Lee, my wingman, yelled out as the Hellions hid themselves, safe from our Tierens' gun fire. If only we had our TV missiles installed.

"3-1 and 3-2! After them, 3-3, cover our flanks, provide over watch reconnaissance, don't let them flank us!" The flight lieutenant radioed us as we changed our courses to follow his orders. Accelerating to full speed we knew they would be ready, the Tieren simply can't outrun the Hellion in any circumstances.

"Sir! ETA on reinforcements?!" Lee radioed the flight lieutenant but before he could finish the sentence he was cut off by the leading Tieren reporting in.

"Visual lock acquired: FIRE!" He reported and fired his main cannon. The AEU Hellions, while unsuited totally for atmospheric flight, used their micro thrusters to gracefully glide out of the incoming fire.

One of the Hellion's, using its forward momentum to continue evading us, turned around to aim the large black box at us. And what a surprise, "MRL fire detected! Suggest evasive actions!" My onboard computer reported in a serene voice.

"Flight break! Activate APS when they get in range!" The flight lieutenant yelled as he banked his thrusters and moved towards the Hellions, but we all had misjudged the purpose of the missiles. The Hellion launched its missiles toward the orbital elevator, I was prepared to launch myself as fast I could betwen me and the structure, hoping my APS would soak it all up in time. Fortunately, a pink beam fired toward the missiles. destroying the three projectiles in quick succession.

The source of the beam appeared to us all, and my flight stopped moving as the Hellions made a very quick retreat from it, screaming in an unencrypted radio channel, "RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" The suit responsible was not any known model, no universal heraldry, colored white and orange with a strange green particle effect around it.

"What the hell is that!" Lee yelled in confusion, echoed by the rest of the flight. The Hellions, as they tried to get distance, fired at the unknown suit, it was simply too fast. I watched in shock and confusion as the unknown quickly engaged and shot down 2 Hellions as they tried to escape. The last one angled for the orbital elevator, likely hoping to either ram or use it as cover. Likely the latter admittedly.

"Shit! It's gonna ra…" Lee radioed but was never able to finish the sentence as the radio and radar just suddenly died, replaced with white noise and a connection lost symbol.

"What happen?" I began to think but then the E-sensor showed one more unidentified suit flying in front of the Hellion that was on a ramming course with the Elevator. Bigger than the last one.

The Hellion was screaming toward the Elevator, hoping against hope to do whatever it did, moving nearly three times the speed our Tierens could move. I watched as even that speed failed the pilot, as the unknown suit revealed a cannon on its chest and fired out a particle beam of some sort, disintegrating the Hellion. It was at that moment our radios came back to life, "- I-peat, fall back! Fall back to the elevator! Reinforcements have arrived!" The flight lieutenant nearly screamed out as we retreated to the platform we started as quickly as we could, seeing dozens of other Tieren suits flying out to secure the area.

Quietly, I asked into my radio, "So I guess the particle it emits jammed our equipment?"

"Perhaps pilot. Command's going to have a word with us for sure however." The lieutenant said in the gaping silence.

"Touch down in three, two, one." I counted down as my Tieren slowly landed on the platform.

After we docked our Tierens in our hangar, we walked completely silent to the debriefing room. All around us controlled and uncontrolled panic was emitted from our comrades. Hundreds of pilots for fighter jets and drones were running to their action stations, triple A was being set up all around the base, missile jammers erected by the dozens. We stuck out, our silence was a black hole that drew attention. When we arrived, only a few officers were present, but more and more were arriving via electronic means or personally, many looked disheveled and were still wearing their formal dress for the event tonight…. Oh yeah, today was our nation's anniversary…..

"This is gonna be a long debrief." I voiced to everyone, and many of them, including the slightly drunk high command officers sighed as we all took a seat.

"Guards, bring us a couple pots of coffee. This is going to be a long night." Confirmed our base commander as he activated the view screens.


	2. Chapter 2

**AEU Orbital Elevator "La Tour."  
**

 **2nd Lt. Isabelle Carelle**

 **AEU Orbital Elevator Defense Force, "Task Force La Tour"**

 **6th Orbital Elevator Defense Squadron**

I had just returned to consciousness after my Hellion had crashed to the ground, the helmet visor was broken and something warm and metallic was in my mouth. 'How long have I been unconscious? I remember I was being pulled into a hanger… did they think I was dead?' I thought with steadily increasing panic and anxiety, the darkness of my suit discomforting… No, terrifying. The shock foam encasing my body made any movement I made like treading through water.

"Anyone!" I yelled, "Help!" I screamed pitifully, I could feel tears streaming down my eyes from pain and fear. I futilely slammed against the Hellion's front hatch, the shock foam preventing me from building momentum. But I still hoped someone would hear it.

"Lieutenant Carelle are you there?" I heard someone calling me from the outside, muffled by the foam and metal.

"Get me out!" I shouted out, slamming the hatch even harder despite the foam.

Indiscernible, muffled yelling was my reply. And the sound of power tools spinning up.

Content that they knew I was alive, consciousness rapidly fled my body once more, the excruciating pain overtaking me. The last sound I heard was the sound of a chainsaw spinning into metal...

* * *

Consciousness returned abruptly. I awoke to a room of white. Looking around in the beginning of panic I thought I had died and went to heaven, if heaven was a white room with a man in a lab coat.

"Where am I?" I asked the man.

"You're in the hospital." The doctor replied. Reexamining the room, the thick scent of antiseptics confirmed that I was indeed in a hospital and not heaven, unless Heaven smelled like antiseptic and the angels liked to fuck with new arrivals.

"You're very lucky that you survived you know? Last time I ever saw anyone get hit like that, his suit was ripped apart and he exploded like a watermelon." The doctor said to me, hardly comforting. I moved to sit up, angling my arms to support me, unwilling to stand because I could no longer feel my legs at the time, but even attempting to sit up brought extreme pain even through the pleasant haze of painkillers, as if every single bone in my body had decided to scrape against my internal organs, "What happened to me!" I screeched out, crying tears of pain. Falling back down into the form fitting pillows, my chest felt like someone had done open surgery with a chainsaw and icepick and left my ribcage a shattered mess. No one could have withstood such pain and not cried rivulets.

"I have never seen anyone in my years of service survive what happened to you. When you crashed a support bar detached and impacted your chest with the strength of a cannon's recoil. Your entire ribcage was shattered, you had internal bleeding in your stomach, esophagus, both your lungs, and your diaphragm. You're lucky you merely have a concussion and you aren't dead from turning your brain to jelly." The doctor answered calmly before pulling out an X-Ray graph. The before graph was nearly impossible to tell individual bone structures. "We've had to remove large sections of your ribcage and insert temporary replacements, and your organs are still recovering from the shock they received, you will be immobile for at least 2 weeks, and I'm personally surprised you've recovered from the sleep medication so quickly, it's likely you'll have to be put into a coma for the time being. I'm sorry, barring miraculous or extreme circumstances, you aren't piloting again."

To never pilot a suit, or even fly a jet again upset me, but I knew I should feel blessed, to have survived such a thing was, as the doctor said, was an accomplishment on its own, "Alright, how long until I can get out of this hospital?" I asked the doctor.

"That's the good news-" The doctor was about to say, but was interrupted by yelling outside.

"Ace of the AEU, never lost a single mock battle, and I'm beaten by a single unknown with a FUCKING SWORD! I swear if I see him again I gonna rip him to pieces damnit! I'll fucking piss on his goddamn corpse like Patton in the Rhine!" The annoying nails on chalkboard screaming came from the open door.

Hopping past the the open doorway on crutches, I Immediately recognized the man.

Patrick Colasour, the top ace of the AEU, the man who had won 2,000 mock battles without a loss. I had fought him once like everyone was required, and I was completely obliterated within minutes by him. I was almost in disbelief, he had been in an Enact when I last saw him in the battle. And judging from his yelling, he had been beaten like he was a gnat.

"Patrick, shut the fuck up. You're disturbing the patients!" The doctor scolded him in rough French.

Reluctantly the ace quieted down.

"You should be happy that you are as unscathed as you are, unlike others in this ward." The medical professional shamed the man.

Looking particularly annoyed I looked back to my doctor.

"Well as I said, that's the good news! You're very lucky, I'd estimate at least 6 months being the most optimistic. Maybe a year or two, maybe even 5 at its worst. Now this is going to be a long process, your body may never fully heal, but everyone in my staff is confident that you will regain full mobility. And from your luck and hearty constitution, who knows, you may break the track record and be healed by less than 6 month. I wouldn't be surprised if you do end up flying again as a war hero." The doctor smiled comfortingly.

A voice came onto the PA system, "Attention all staff and patients: The unknowns are making an announcement!"

"Damn it, I hate it when they don't specify the channel." The doctor complained to me, with me playfully rolling my eyes.

He turned on the TV and it started showing a rerun of Blackadder. Strangely however, the signal was lost, replaced with an old looking man, grey hair closely cropped to his skull, wearing a strange logo upon his chest, speaking in english.

Alarms were ticking in my mind, mixed with intrigue, I wished more than ever to sit up, just to show the right amount of attention this deserved.

"I would like to address this statement to every single human being born and raised on Earth. We call ourselves simply Celestial Being. We are a privately armed organization in possession of the mobile weapon Gundam. The main objective of Celestial Being's activities is to completely eliminate acts of wars from this world. We do not act for our own benefit or for personal gain. We have chosen to intervene for the greatest goal of all to rid ourselves of the scourge of war. As of this moment I make this declaration to all humanity. Territory, religion, energy, no matter what the reason or excuse if there is an evident act of war being carried out, we will commence intervention with our forces. Any country, organization or corporation that promotes war will also be a legitimate target for our intervention. We simply call ourselves Celestial Being. We are an armed organization that was established to eliminate all acts of war from this world." And as mysteriously as the speech began, it ended, with Blackadder coming back saying the end of a pun.

"What the actual fuck? And what the hell is the mobile weapon Gundam?" I asked, looking to the equally perplexed doctor.

* * *

 **HRL Orbital Elevator Base**

 **Warrant Officer Somchai Chokdi**

 **HRL Orbital Elevator Defense Force**

 **3rd Orbital Unit**

"So you are saying that the unknown appeared out of nowhere, shot down all the Hellions and just… Fucked off?" One of the colonels asked in increasing frustration.

"As me, my wingman, my commanding officer, and our instruments all have said and confirmed. Yes. Yes, the suit appeared out of nowhere, and all our radio and radar gear just simultaneously failed while we were in the presence of the unknown. To be honest sir, we should be more worried about their ECM and jamming capabilities, they could be armed with last generation suits and vehicles and that capability alone would cripple our entire military doctrine and structure." My lieutenant explained to the colonel, much to both their frustration. We had all been in the room for more than a week, we all stank of sweat from the tropical heat despite being in the heart of the command center, we all had less than 24 hours of sleep the entire period, and every male in the room had started growing an admirable amount of facial hair.

Everyone not directly involved in the conversation had decided to take a short nap, a sight which I had snapped a photo of for future enjoyment on my phone.

"Has anybody claimed responsibility yet?" A general asked aloud.

"SIRS! New development!" A staffer reported, bursting in and awakening everyone from their naps with started yells, curses, and not agains.

After a minute to watch the video clip, which had gained almost a billion views in only an hour, everyone looked both intrigued and confused. "They have also claimed responsibility for attacking an AEU demonstration in Africa during their new mobile suit trial, killing what our operatives estimate to be hundreds and wounding many more."

"Should we consider them as a threat? I personally have not been informed of any plans for making war." The minister of Defense asked the Cabinet General.

The cabinet general looked over the squadron of mobile suit pilots and other staffers, "What I may say in relation to future plans is top secret and highly theoretical. I don't need to threaten execution to get that across." Looking at everyone, including myself, he breathed in heavily, "We should, because if their goal is to eliminate war, and any acts of war through armed intervention, then irrelevant of any plans we had, we will become a target eventually." The general said grimly as he looked at the projector which showed a picture of a Gundam fighting against the Enact.

"They attacked a simple military demonstration of new hardware, the AEU Enact. While none of us has any real love for our rival the AEU, that is not to mean we are immune to sympathy for such a gross overstep of boundaries. While yes the Enact's reveal was a provocative act on the anniversary of our alliance's founding, we all know it was typical military bluster and a flexing of muscle, we're guilty of it, Union's guilty of it. Even peaceful nations of the past are guilty of it when they feel threatened. Since these Celestial Beings have started their campaign by attacking a peaceful public military demonstration, they have set the bar for what can be 'Acts of War' to be very low indeed. Yes while AEU designed Hellions did breach our air space around our orbital tower, from recorded comms, they were more terrified of something chasing after them, and those suits are exported the world over, anyone with enough money and technical power could have gotten a few. It's not impossible for terrorists to get their hands on a few of them. I now wish more than ever to have one of those pilots in our hands to know their true intentions. But as of now, the hands of the military, and perhaps even the government itself, is tied, with a gun pointed blatantly to our head, threatening to pull the trigger for even honest mistakes."

I raised my hand, upon a nod from him I spoke, "That's all terrifying sir. But I think the most important question right now is this; what the hell is the mobile weapon Gundam? And why is it so important for them to mention it?"

* * *

 **Republic of Taribia**

 **Master Sergenat Sofia Fortuna**

 **Taribian Defense Force**

 **4th Wing, 13th Squadron**

Mobile suits were expensive pieces of hardware. In the 21st century tanks were expensive, complicated, and very time heavy for maintenance. A single advanced tank could cost millions of dollars just to produce, and millions of more dollars just to operate and maintain. The best tank of the Early 21st century, the M1A2 Abrams main battle tank alone costs several million US dollars and many times that to maintain and upgrade over time.

But Mobile Suits were different, in a tank you had to worry about all sorts of electronic gadgets: laser rangefinders, night vision scopes, targeting computers, visual cameras, the auto loader, air conditioning, pneumatics. Then you had the tracks which would wear out every few hundred kilometers, the engine and other mechanical parts which if not maintained religiously, an impossible feat on the move in war, then it would crap out on you at the worst moment. A mobile suit was all that times ten.

You had all the movable joints which needed to be properly lubed and greased up before and after every operation, parts, especially on the joints which wore out after a few hundred hours of use. The electronics were more complex than a modern day stealth fighter and atmospheric shuttle. The fuel requirements necessary to get a few tens of tons machine in the air and flying about were so bad they made the Abrams tank, a tank that had to use multiple gallons of JP8 Jet Fuel per mile look like a smart car. That wasn't even getting into the sheer complexity and fragility of the vehicle. If you wanted to fly you had to sacrifice weight somewhere, if you wanted it to fight on the ground you had to make sure a few Anti Suit rounds from a tank didn't destroy it, if you wanted it to actually HURT a tank you had to arm it well enough to make sure it could beat it, then you had to give it enough armament to make it more cost effective than a few fighter bombers or helicopters.

Then you had to get to the slippery slope of WHY!? Why spend tens of billions of dollars on a Mobile suit when you can get hundreds of tanks and jet aircraft? Sure Mobile suits had all those fancy new tools like Deflection rods and linear rifles. But you can mount both easily on a tank chassis and airframe, and do it in more numbers too. And for richer nations like the US they could easily afford that. And like the Sherman to the Tiger, if you had enough Sherman's, even if the Tiger killed 100 of them, it would still be a net gain for the Shermans.

No, Mobile suits did something that neither Aircraft nor Tanks could do. Despite their fragility, their lack of weapons, or their lack of speed, they could go to space and fight moderately well. They can fight in city streets and comeout reasonably well at the other end, they could go toe to toe with helicopters and CAS aircraft and perform their jobs relatively well. And they had one more advantage.

The pilot.

A mobile suit was most definitely not a tool for quantity. An inexperienced pilot was more a liability to their own side then a threat to face. They were complicated, required years of extensive training and practice just to fly and walk around, let alone combat, and done well, you still got extreme aces like Patrick Solasuer or whatever the fuck his name was. Monsters of men who with just their suit could tip the scales of battle.

We support the infantry in the streets, we fly support and reconnaissance for the tanks in the plains, we provide a nasty surprise and palpable respite for the fighters in the air. WE hold the flag of our nations, of our alliances, we hold them proudly. And our Suits, the most expensive, questionable, over engineered, and newest tool in the chest for humanity's favorite pastime showed that they deserved a place on the modern battlefield. We proved why even the richest nations barely had a stockpile of only a few thousand suits. A suit was useless without a good pilot with so many vastly cheaper ways to try and take down a suit that a rookie pilot would fall to.

That was why, this bombing mission against the Taribian rebels was more than just some mobile suits going out to break some things. This was a clear message, "We aren't fucking around anymore."

I first showed my worth not by flying a fancy jet, not by being rich and getting a top tier education. I got my place by joining the army at 16 with nothing but the clothes on my back driving a tank. And when the time called, gunning for one, then commanding one. I showed the natural tactical skill, patience for the hunt, and endurance for the grueling maintenance of my vehicle. 20 years of my life I devoted to the military in the armored corps, declining promotion to stay with what I loved most.

I was a Sergeant commanding a tank when I should have been a Master Sergent at least assisting a colonel commanding a division. My pure devotion to the grunt life, to what it truly meant to be a soldier was what got me put at the top of the list of replacements for the Taribian Mobile Suit Corp, when all other more "Prestigious" candidates were scooped up by Union.

So here I was, a Sergeant commanding a fireteam of 3 Realdos, my wingman simultaneously a higher rank and yet subservient to me, "We are approaching the target. ETA 5 minutes." I informed my wingmen and the recon team, who affirmed.

"Understood, we are in position to laze the target." The soldier on the ground replied softly, as Sofia's mind switched out from just her body. She switched to her laser guided bombs, a pair of 10,000 pounders hanging from her Realdo like a pair of cojones, a bit heavy for her Realdo, but they would do nicely.

"Target acquired." She conferred, like a hunter to her cohorts. This was what she lived for. For the kill, achieving an expertly crafted Schwerpunkt. She looked into her targeting computer. While a rookie tanker may be baffled by the various symbols, numbers, and calculations, she deciphered the trove of information, only years of practice and training behind a cannon could prepare you for.

"2 minutes." She inhaled slowly, counting her heartbeats, like when her father taught her when poaching. She blinked slowly, her eyes absorbing the information, her hand around the trigger. She started to exhale. She lived for moments like these, to feel alive, ready to cause mayhem among the enemy's lines.

"1 minute!" She did it when she rammed her tank into that rebel CP. She did it when she killed the Mexican command tank in the 2291 joint war games. She achieved the climax of her art when leading the Fruitless and annihilating an entire company of rebels in the battle for Maracaibo single handedly.

The moment! It's about to come- "This is command abort mission, abort the mission!" Command essentially screamed at me, bringing me out of my wonderful trance.

Deactivating my guided bombs I shutdown my targeting computer, "Roger, aborting mission. I repeat, we are aborting mission." From what I could see below on my hud, All friendly units were in the middle of a fighting retreat.

And god damnit I was so close!

* * *

 **3 hours later**

"Sir, why was the mission aborted? I was so close!" I asked the Major. Well not so much asked and shouted in demand.

"Please calm down Sofi. I know you don't exactly like these things to happen, but it's bigger than the rebels and Taribia." He tried to ease me, as he pulled out a piece of paper from the drawer. The paper showed an unknown mobile suit with its description on its forehead as 'Gundam' and a picture of a man sitting on a chair with his name identified as Aeolia Schenburg.

"What's this?" I asked, my anger barely in check.

"They call themselves Celestial Being, a privately armed organization who own a mobile suit named 'Gundam'. Their goal is to eliminate all kinds of warfare from Earth." He read it out. "The top brass seems to be extremely worried about this, so they're moving you to the 1st Squadron."

"The 1st Squadron?! You mean that pansy ass squadron where everyone can do insane maneuvers for the civvies? You must be kidding me."

"I'm not kidding, from what I saw during the military exercise with the Americans. You are perhaps the only pilot I've ever had the pleasure to meet capable of defeating a Flag with a Realdo. That alone proves that you are more skillful than anyone in this squadron." The major replied, smirking, "You also had your salary raised you know? Your salary is now like 3,000 pesos a day. Hell you're making more than me now."

"I- I understand sir. I'm to report to the Squadron." I replied, faltering to him, before giving him a salute. I was turning around and about to walk away when he called me back.

"Hey, didn't you hear? You're PROMOTED." I turned back towards him, the major sighed before pulling out a small box from a desk drawer writing a note before giving it to me. I opened the box. Inside it was a rank insignia, three stars and two red lines on each side. The symbol of a Sergeant Major…

"Congratulation Master Sergeant Fortuna, you are now a Sergeant Major. You are to report to Major Emanuel of the 1st Squadron as soon as possible." The major announced officially, saluting, I saluted back and left. As I left the administrative center for the crappy airfield that I had worked and lived in since I got my Mobile Suit, I wondered what was next for me to hunt...


	3. Chapter 3

Ceylon Islands, Former States of Sri Lanka, Human Reform League  
 **  
Warrant Officer Somchai Chokdi, Royal Thai Army Ceylon Expeditionary**

After the investigation ended, I had been re-assigned to Ceylon as part of Thailand's participation in the peacekeeping operations of the HRL member nations. My unit, the Royal Thai Army Ceylon Expeditionary Force, or RTACEF, had been present since the beginning.

Me and my wing mates were just the new meat on the block this month.

The former state of Sri Lanka had collapsed and civil war had broken out between the Tamil and the Sinhalese, the HRL intervened to support the Tamil thanks to their share of resources and solar power. Inside, I'd always wondered how exactly Sri Lanka failed, I knew for a fact that no modern government didn't have any dirty secrets, and the threat of switching sides would be more than enough for HRL agents to cause a mess.

However I purged that from my head as irrelevant to my current preoccupation. My unit was just sitting inside our barracks on standby. Ever since the various terrorist attacks, as they were calling it, from the Celestial Being, all combat and training operations had been halted until further notice. And so, everyone was doing their own thing, some were around the large table playing poker, others talking amongst themselves, nursing non alcoholic drinks, catching some sleep, a few of them were reading. I was just doing some research on my laptop.

Everyone was in their flight suit and while it wasn't spoken aloud, everyone was on edge, patrol aircraft reported the Sinhalese moving their few mobile suits into an advantageous position nearby, since Celestial Being had come, there had been a world wide informal truce between everyone, but some people were dumber or less informed than others. Didn't change anything though, if that big red klaxon started ringing, they were to start moving.

It was why my unit was here, we were some of the better operators of the League, and if we were to be the ones shot at, they wanted someone who could fight without fighting.

"Hey man, what'cha doing?" One of my flight mates asked before taking a peek at the screen. "Student exchange program? What are you looking that up for? Don't tell me, you lied about your age and got in fresh outta high school?" He teased me. Everyone knew I was self conscious about my babyish features.

I rolled my eyes, not even getting flushed, "My sister, she's graduating Grade 10 in a few weeks. Mom wants to send her abroad, see the world and all. So mom told me to look for some programs, preferably in Korea." I replied showing off the picture of my sister in her school uniform.

He did the stereotypical whistle, with me playfully slapping him on the face in return, "Wow, what a lucky brother you are, can I get her number?" I rolled my eyes in annoyance, closing the laptop. His laughing was cut short when the dreaded klaxon started pounding.

"Attention, Sinhalese forces are on the move, thirty hostile mobile suits are approaching the base, confirmed identity as Sinhalese. 23rd Thai and 14th Korean mobile suit squadrons prepare to scramble. Remember, we are not allowed to fire unless directly ordered too." The base loudspeakers announced in a serene voice, as we all put down whatever we were doing and rushed out of the building to man our suits. Infantry and armored vehicles were also rushing out of their barracks to reinforce the defensive perimeter around the base.

Reaching my Tieren, I took this last moment to stretch out my body in preparation for the cramped insides of the suit. After a scant few seconds I climbed the ladder and got buckled in, the ground crew doing the final checkups as we prepared to move out. Donning my helmet, linking my camera to the visual feed and starting the engine. The screens then came to life.

"Royal Thai Army, MSJ-06II-A Tieren Ground Type, welcome back Warrant Officer Chokdi." It displayed on the screen under the symbol of the Human Reform League and my homeland of Thailand. Having seen it a thousand times before I bypassed the normal starting screens and began going through the hoops ground control needed to clear me. If there was a chance CBs would come I'd need my suit at 100% before I made my emergency faceplant.

"Visual feed good, laser rangefinder operational and tracking, joints show 100% operational, guns loaded and pre checked double safeties installed, emergency dueling blade clear of obstructions." I droned through the checklist, "Smoke grenade dischargers, for what they're worth, counted up, auxiliary machine gun shows 100% operational, TV missile loaded and tracking. APS operational. I'm good to go. Any objections down there?" Receiving a thumbs up in my visual feed I affirmed.

"Let's go!" The commander's voice came through the speaker as I started to move my Tieren into position. The only thing I really despised on a personal level about the Tieren is the fact that you had to pilot in a standing position, and it was damned uncomfortable to be in. AEU and UNION suits had cockpits which were both more comfortable and efficient, the standing bit was partly why they mockingly called Tierens "The Coffin" because of its box-shaped cockpit.

Not to mention the abysmally low chances of getting the hell out of the suit in an emergency, and how they were mass produced with production efficiency in mind and not crew survivability.

"1-6, this is 2-6. We are under attack, Sinhalese Mobile Suits have strafed our position, half our tanks are immobile or disabled and their infantry are flooding through. They've managed to bypass the minefield and we need some support to clear to the next line." A Lieutenant called for help remarkably calmly, I could hear multiple explosions from afar. Artillery positioned on top of the mountain had begun firing their cannons and MLRS with one or two Long Range Type Suits acting as spotters for the artillery, while multiple static artillery emplacements in the base started lobbing shells on the attacking Sinhalese forces, trying to keep them at arm's length and keep a defensive posture. Everyone had been drilling constantly in techniques for minimum casualty combat and to appear to be on the defensive as much as possible. While no one knew how the CBs would react or how fast they would respond, it was generally agreed to stay as safe as possible.

Speaking of the artillery, the Long Range Types were a very rare Suit, originally made to try and replace Self Propelled Guns they were found to be highly ineffective, and were as much a slave to their support crews as the Self Propelled Guns. The original design didn't even have anywhere to store extra ammo once the shot inside the cannon was fired. It had been a huge embarrassment for HRL, and for the Mobile Suit corps in general who had tried to champion it. More than a few veteran commanders and pilots lost a lot of esteem. However, everyone had learned a lot about suit design and doctrine from the failed experiment, and everyone the world over had taken note of the failure.

Still, hundreds of them were still kept in storage and sometimes pulled out to shoot things up. As supply intensive as they are, they still packed a massive punch with their 300mm gun, they would obliterate even the most heavily armored of mobile suits if they got a direct hit.

Having engaged our suit's sprint, we soon came upon hostiles, "Hostiles spotted, six MSER-04 Anf mobile suits: ENGAGE!" The captain ordered as we started bounding our way towards the Anf. MSER-04 Anf, the export version made of the decommissioned MSJ-04 Fanton. A crappy and cheap export model with everything downgraded from the Fanton. Having used to pilot one on training exercises back in the Academy, this was going to be trivially easy to outmaneuver I knew.

Judging from the visual feed, as subpar as the cheap electronic was, I could see the main gun hadn't even been replaced from the export model. It was inferior to my main canon in every way except cost and reliability. The cannon was economical for what it was designed for, curbing insurgents. Beyond that for actual infantry, or god forbid armored vehicles or other suits, you couldn't find a worse weapon.

For the suit itself, we've exported it to everyone, tin pot Middle Eastern and African nations, PMCs, freedom fighters, and "freedom fighters". Hell we've even sold to the UNION and AEU who probably buy it to study HRL designs. In short, the original buyer could have been anyone.

"Alright boys, let's bully this guy to the ground, weapon's are not free, stay close to cover and obscuring terrain. I don't want a repeat of Borneo, these suits may be cheap but it's coming out of your paycheck if you wreck!" The threat of Celestial Being meant that overt combat was disallowed unless one's life depended on it, so we had to be more creative. Typically we did that by "bullying" the often weaker and less reliable Suits, which constituted pushing and ramming the poor sod, in the aim of breaking something important or discombobulating the pilot and forcing him to run away. Even an HRL designed suit could only take so many jostles before a support or vital actuator was damaged.

Baiting the suit, who fired wildly at us, we scattered as if intimidated. The suit and his wingman charged forward aggressively, a typical rookie mistake. As soon as they got close enough moving up hill, so that we wouldn't have to worry about their friends, we proceeded to turn on the now encircled suits. Gunning my thrusters so I launched into the air, I aimed to glance the wingman as I pulled a death from above, and was rewarded by feeling something shear off the cheaply made model. Looking back, I saw the suit starting to shake to the ground, having had half its frame dented off its mounting into the leg which had shards of metal and exposed wiring and pneumatic tubes.

The leader didn't fare better, it looked closer to a bar brawl then a fight between masters and novice. Three of my wingman had encircled him, the first tripping up his leg so he fell on his back, the next grabbed his gun arm and proceeded to break the arm over a nearby tree, the arm now flopping lamely as it was only held together by its durable wires and plastic tubes. While the third, our Wing leader, proceeded to grab the defanged suit by the chassis and lift and then smash the suit to the ground several times until he was satisfied the pilot inside was not getting out of there without a blow torch.

Everyone was laughing as the Sinhalese inside was cursing us out through his speakers, "Hey squad, I know that was quite the ego boost but we still got a job to do." The captain said with a chuckle, "I want discriminate supporting fire for our boys on the ground, no kill shots, if CeeBees start flying in I want to say honestly that we haven't killed anyone. You all read?"

After a flurry of affirmatives and taking the safeties off our cannons we started to receive a call, "This is 1-6, enemy forces are approaching us from the North. We are returning fire, request artillery support." My section leader radioed as we heard the roars of cannons from afar, before a 300mm round landed directly on perhaps the most unlucky Anf ever, as it was obliterated into pieces smaller than my head.

"1-6, this is command. Hold your ground for the moment, we are sending in reinforcements for rearguard." Command replied before cutting the signal. We looked to one another before my suit was impacted and deflected a round from a tank.

"Understood command. You heard them men, defensive positions!" The captain ordered as we started forming up defensive position around the hill outside the base, I put my Tieren in a kneeling position so I could make use of the extra armor mounted on the knee of my Tieren. "Somchai, you alright?" My wing leader asked with a bit of worry.

"Yeah, it was cheap shot, literally. My suit deflected it, no damage." More rounds flew to our position, most missed wildly, and the ones that did somehow hit were simply shrugged off by the thick leg armor as we returned fire. Our supporting infantry behind us started firing their own ATGMs at the attacking Anfs and tanks. With their anti-suits warheads they actually disabled a few Anfs, but the tanks were of a better model and their APS shot the rounds out of the air before impact.

"Suit reinforcements!" I called out unnecessarily, as our HUD radar showed four flying Tieren High Mobility Type A approaching us from behind and started engaging the Anfs and tanks. Strafing one of them with my own 20mm autocannon right in the eye. Damaging the optics as the suit started to retreat blindly. The target had been down the hill in the clearing, and as it was retreating I felt that there were other targets more deserving of my wrath. One had to be careful where they shot, the damn bloody Sinhalese infantry with rockets and missiles could be anywhere, and one bad shot from me would gib the poor the fool and get me in deep shit if CeeBees started flying over. With that in mind I hid behind a moss covered boulder and drew my emergency dueling blade.

Stupidly, an Anf walked past my cover, whether oblivious to my previous presence or forgetting about it. Dashing for the Anf, I sliced it's weapon arm, and then lopped its head off, before making a slide with my leg, tipping the unsteady machine over onto its back. Effectively neutralizing the Anf.

"Incoming!" Someone yelled when a wave of RPG and ATGM warheads started being fired at us from enemy infantry. Lucky for me and my wing, our APS was not overwhelmed by the projectiles. Those poor Sinhalese still used RPG-7s from the 20th century, and when it did impact the specially treated alloy, my armor managed to absorb the rounds, but they left nasty pockmarks and another shot in the same position would definitely hit something underneath.

' _I guess it's one of those times to get creative_ ' I thought, "Squadron, lets smoke them off this hill!" I announced taking note of the wind direction before firing off my smoke launchers, covering everything in ten meters from me in thick, black, hot, smoke and chaff.

Everyone else complied, and thick banks of smoke covered the hillside. The infantry both ours and the enemy, began to choke and hack, while our own men put on their gas masks, the Sinhalese were too lightly armed to even have those as they started to run away and scatter.

"Enemy forces are retreating!" That got everyone whooping in victory. While it hadn't been that huge of an assault, the adrenaline and threat of it was not insignificant either, especially with the added challenge of our hands tied behind our back as it were.

"Alright! Standard procedure: follow and encircle enemy forces and force surrender, remember we're still playing defensively here so only move out to the outer defensive lines and let the rest rout." 1-6, our section commander, announced to everyone from his command tank at the top of the hill.

We were all cheering and about to advance when we got a message on all channels, "All units, all units, disengage I repeat disengage and go to ground. Celestial Being has been detected." For the first time in my entire career, I heard my section commander audibly gulp in the radio.

"Celestial Being is coming here. Belay all orders, all units all units, go to ground, turn off your vehicles and stay put until the all clear is given. And pray that they don't notice you enough to shoot you." The major said.

For a moment, the entire jungle around the base fell quiet, only disturbed by alarms, running feet, and panicked shouts from both HRL and Sinhalese soldiers, retreating or hiding. It was almost eerie being in my suit, listening around the jungle, hearing nothing except crackling fires. The jungle was never so quiet. It could drive a man mad, thinking he was all that was left on that blasted battlefield

However, it didn't take long, distantly one could still hear the echos of shooting, and suddenly the peace was ended by a loud crack of a laser beam splitting the air. The explosion that resonated throughout the jungle made everyone anxious. Cautiously, 1-6 raised his radio, "This is 1-6 reporting in, no combat on our front, all units to ground as ordered and powered down. Who's still fighting?"

The crackling of the radio produced base command, "1-6 this is base command, we believe the Koreans were still engaged heavily and we had lost radio communication a few minutes ago. We see two CeeBees over their position." The sound of a massive explosion and a pillar of fire made everyone flinch. "It's a goddamn massacre there! What-" The sound of talking in the background made everyone lean in closer to their radio's or push their set closer to their ear, the whispering and the panicked sounds in the background, "It seems the CeeBees are attacking both the Koreans and the Sinhalese! They're broadcasting they were only fighting in self defense but the CeeBees are just using their radio signals to pinpoint their suits and tanks."

Somchai looked to the battle and zooming in he saw something familiar, "There it is, the blue Mobile Suit that attacked those AEU suits at the orbital elevator." I pointed out desperately, taking a few pictures with my suit. Others in my unit who had saw it as well looked, and suddenly the forest was alive with movement.

"We aren't going to let them kill our comrades are we?!"

"That could have been us if we lost radio contact."

"Is there anything we can do?" Well yes there was something we could do. Namely draw their attention, there were only two suits, and thanks to the foliage and cover it would be hard to see from the sky, and we had the element of surprise.

1-6 spoke up, "We know that could have easily been us men! All units, follow backup plan A! Weapons are free! I want simultaneous firepower on that floating blue prick!" With the order from the captain heard. I quickly gained a lock on the mobile suit, and prepared to fire on his mark. The tank next to me came to a dead stop and turned its cannon to the clearing of the trees, I could hear the men inside on the radio as they loaded the heavy Anti suit shell, a Tungsten shell filled with a chemical incendiary that would pierce the suits armor and then start to immolate the underneath electronics and workings of the suit. A nasty way to go if it hit the cockpit, and a surefire death to any suit that it impacted, no matter how tough your armor, if it got a good hit, your suit was done.

"1-6, all units belay that order! We can't lose both our squadrons! Are you listening? Do not engage-" 1-6 cut the line.

"Looks like we lost contact with command… whatever happens men, I won't judge you if you decide to hold your fire and stay low. But remember, we owe them this much, at least enough time to eject and run." No one objected, not the infantry, not the suit pilots, and most certainly not the tankers, "Alright then, tank crews, keep your hatches open, I want you out of those things if they get a bead on you, suit pilots, fingers on the ejection toggle, infantry… god bless you. I want ATGMs as chaff, use them to keep the bastard moving and not getting a good shot. Rockets, cannons, suits, fire on my mark. And don't assume we got it in one solvo, we have no idea what this thing is made of."

Everyone prepared, in 5 seconds all rockets, cannons, and anything that may just piss it off were aimed at it. The ATGMs were saved for later not knowing how good its countermeasures were. "Ready… Aim…" A deep sigh, one that everyone took part in, no turning back, "Fire!" 1-6 ordered, and immediately, hypervelocity tank shells, automatic cannons, rockets, and small arms, fired to the blue suit. And it was soon enveloped in smoke and exploding shrapnel as every bit of it was hit with the combined might of a battalion of suits tanks, and infantry. As the smoke cleared, everyone cheered, and whooped. It was short lived as something came from the ground, its entire body head to toe smoking and charred, but still more than capable of fighting, and looking right at their group.

Everyone fired at will then, and all the Tierens, tanks and infantry moved as well as they did so. The thing was peppered with a dozen more 20mm shells, infantry bullets from every angle, and the odd tank round that scraped off its armor like it was nothing. The suit quickly gained speed before diving down on one of the Tierens on the other side of the ridge. Hiding behind a thick hundred year old tree barely saved the pilot, as it suffered a deep gouge in its pelvis region that wrecked its gyro and completely totalled the Tieren.

As the suit took barely a moment to admire its handiwork, the infantry squad surrounding the Tieren aimed their ATGMs and rockets at the suit. The pilot likely only had a second to realize his problem before he was covered in rockets and smoke once more. Rising to the air, he looked more battered than before, with an actual tear in its armor having formed. ' _So he isn't invincible'_ I thought, as I recorded the footage, just damn near close. He had survived firepower that would have obliterated even the most well armored experimental suit ever made, twice, and it was still going! The fact the pilot inside was still alive and not bleeding from the nose and had his eyeballs exploded from the concussive force was a mark of either total autonomy in the suit, or a testament to the shock absorbers on that thing. I would say impossible if it weren't for the fact it was trying to kill me. Thinking, the Gundam was clearly using the Tieren's lack of mobility to its advantage but it was not like we don't have plans for that...

"Now!" The sound of another flight leader emitted from the comm as three Tierens hidden inside the forest launched their TV missiles at the Gundam, pelting it with at least a dozen missiles. Followed closely by another dozen rockets from the infantry in the forest. Any suit hit by that type of firepower would be reduced to parts, especially from the underside of the suit, one of the weakest points.

"It's unscathed?! What kind of armor does this thing have!" One of my squadron mates shrieked in terror as we visually identified the suit. At least at first, as I zoomed in and saw that its foot booster it had been using to keep balance had been destroyed, even those parts would have not been as well armored as the central chassis and limbs, due to heat dispersion issues. Quick thinking came to my mind.

"Bully it! We need to bully the bastard! Tear him apart and get him on the ground!" I yelled as I fired at the thing, "I'll draw its attention, everyone on me when it's time. But first we need to knock its boosters loose some more so it can't go into the air." Firing at the suit as it drew its blade and started to search for the Tierens that shot it.

1-6, without any better plans acceded, "1-1, 1-2, 1-4, support him. 1-3, I want you to keep it busy until we're ready, all measures available. Try and make it less mobile." Everyone acknowledged.

"Command, this is 1-3 we are engaged against CB suit. I repeat, CB Suit! Request artillery support, sector E24, painting target, Anti-MS rounds, we have infantry and vehicles under it so make your shots as accurate as possible, fire at will!" 1-3 platoon leader radioed command.

"Roger that, artillery strikes confirmed. Firing first solvo. Second firing in ten seconds." it was a long shot, the suit was immune to shrapnel damage, but a lucky direct hit could rip off its head, or a shoulder pauldron, or the boosters, any would be good. As the shells rained down, the suit remained untouched, but it had taken a scraping hit in the back which caused a huge gash in the armor, but nothing concrete yet.

I was in position, I was the bait in a damn clearing. I had a tree and boulder near me, enough to save my life I hoped. "Hold artillery!" I yelled, and then when it stopped and the suit looked around for a target, I fired. Hitting it upside the head, I never felt more afraid in my life then staring it down. In a split second it angled itself and then zoomed towards me. With not a moment to spare, I jumped behind my chosen cover bodily, it wasn't enough as I felt the CeeBee proceed to scrape along my back pelvis, nearly ripping off my legs and completely wrecking the equipment that allowed me to turn there.

The CeeBee barely had time to do more than that before it was body checked in four different directions. Four Tierens had come and were trying to wrestle the other suit to the ground, more joined and did their best. It was only when a tank under foot gunned its engines and rammed the off centered leg that it was tripped to the ground. With an almighty crash the other armored vehicles began to fire upon it, as the Tierens around it used whatever was at hand to pummel the suit into submission. All the while screaming epitaphs at the machine. When dueling blades simply shattered after the abuse, rocks and trees were used to batter the suit and to try and leverage the openings in the armor. Somewhere, infantry and Tanks colluded to attach chains around the joints of the elbow and ten tanks began to pull into the joint, trying to rip it free from its socket. It only worked when infantry packed fifty kilos of plastic explosive and anti suit magnetic charges into the joint and it blasted apart, freeing the blade from its arsenal.

It was chaos, the CeeBee was trying to break free but the weight of now five suits atop of it, doing their damndest to rip anything, something off the body resulted in bits of metal, instruments, armor plates, to be ripped free and thrown clear or used as a bludgeon. 1-6 finally spoke up, "Pull it spread eagle and paint its chest, we'll get the artillery to blast the crab open." The cheering on the radio was deafening as they proceeded to do just that, trying to rip off the limbs, infantry packed more plastic explosives in cracks in the armor or at the joints.

"3, 2, 1, PULL!" They pulled the other arm taut and the hundred kilos of explosives resulted in the arm being rent apart and pulled off. The cheering around them was deafening the infantry, the tanks roars, and the suit's speakers screaming epitaphs and insults at the gundam. We were so into it, that we didn't realize the other suit had stopped picking on the Koreans and had tried to come and assist its partner in crime. By the time it got into visual range, his friend's transmitter having been torn off from its mounting in the suit and thrown a mile away by an over enthusiastic baseball playing Tieren pilot, he saw his friend held spread eagle as an artillery shell weighing nearly 500 pounds found its mark and blasted open the abused chest piece, destroying the internal gyro. But the pilot was still alive, if barely conscious.

The other suit never got revenge as dozens of ATGMs, cannon shells, and anti aircraft fire from SPAAGs pushed him away. However he needed to collect his wingmate, swooping down upon the HRL forces, he surprised them long enough to take ahold of the chest piece before flying away as quick as they came. The battle had been won by HRL.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

AEU Military Hospital, London, United Kingdom  
Flight Lieutenant Isabelle Carelle  
RAF No.24 squadron

Status: WIA

I lay in bed, looking out to the suburbs of outer London, I felt like a million pounds. Not the weight, no, I thought with a smile, but I was alive. Not just alive, I was healing at an unprecedented rate that amazed my physicians. Some attributed it to good genes, upbeat attitude, and good ol' fashioned luck.

Most were tearing their hair out determining my speed of recovery. But no abnormal signs were present, and I was just happy to be alive and have the chance of flying again. My ribcage didn't feel like it was on fire, my brain didn't show signs of serious trauma. Yet. That was an eventuality in my line of work, and I no longer had any serious internal bleeding. Why I may even finish my therapy by years end.

Of course, "Aghh, damn." I still felt sore everywhere, and the only thing keeping me in a pleasant mood was the bag of morphine hooked to my IV. And even still, the pain in my lower abdomen had never gone away entirely anyways. The damn support bar did a good job on me, and its continued presence had worried the doctors and kept me cooped up in the building for the whole month. After I got transferred to London for recovery, I learned I would be discharged from this hospital next week and back to work, but I was being given easy duty, nothing but flying cargo planes from point A to B in the AEU, with plenty of home time with my family. I wasn't being given a suit, but then again, I was happy to still be flying anyways, and rumors had bounced back to me that I may be given a suit later this year if I continued to improve.

A small pile of flowers and candy boxes were on the table next to me with "Get well soon!" Cards on it. Some came from the commander of my squadron, some from my friends and my wingmates who also survived. The thought of those who didn't brought a momentary lapse in my smile. There was also a small box of genuine Moroccan chocolates from my CO Major David who was still in North Africa, and my French friend, Warrant Officer Jaen, came to visit me yesterday on his leave. My dress uniform was hanging on the other side of the room, still steam pressed and ready for me to rise to the occasion.

I was about to turn on the TV when the door was knocked twice, "Who's there?"

"Hey, Izzy, its me!" I heard from outside the room as the door slide open. My older brother, Paul, walked in. His suit still on as he sat next to my bed.

"Paul!" Hugging him gently, I relaxed back into bed, putting the controller back down, "It's nice of you to visit me so soon. How's work treating you?"

He laughed softly, "Work's fine, I've only been stressed about you! When I heard your base was attacked I thought I'd never get to see you again. I've kinda dug into work to ignore it but they've finally booted me out of the office when they heard you got transferred back home." Paul said comfortingly, my relation with my brother had improved in the last few years after our parents died, they had divorced and we got separated, but both had died in the same month after a few years of bickering. Mom was an Italian immigrant and Dad a foreign worker from Ireland, I don't know how they even fell in love with each other considering how different they were. When we both went to their funerals we had reconnected, I was on route to the military and he was going into college with an eye for economics. We'd shared a bottle of scotch after we learned he was being hired at the Bank of England and after I learned I was being inducted to the RAF years ago. It felt like a decade ago after the last few month's events. "I told you not to join the military in the first place."

I scoffed at him, mock hurt, "Please. Like that time you told me not to go paintballing? You know me, a girl who enjoys the thrill of combat!" Smiling, I sighed, and felt my stomach once more, I was dead serious now, "I got lucky. REALLY lucky. By all fucking rights, I should be dead, or just brain dead. But I guess I have dad to owe for the luck. That Argie pilot nearly got me over the Falklands, but my luck hasn't run out then, and it hasn't run out now, and if you haven't heard I'm being given light duty." Smiling at him, he nodded.

"Well we can thank the Irishman for that. Anyways, I brought your favorite movies! The Adventures of Ace Combat, Armored Core Engineers, Evangelic, and Top Gun!" I smiled at him as he began to fiddle with the movie player.

"This is going to keep me occupied for some time." Paul's switching the channel when he switched to BBC broadcast showing what appears to be HRL's Tieren-series mobile suit dragging away a wreck of a very familiar suit into the hangar. "Wait a minute…" Taking a look at the title of the news "HRL claimed it had shot down 'Gundam'"

"Well shit."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Over the Java Sea, Indonesia, Human Reform League

A jetliner escorted by two fighter jets were flying over the sea. On board, Colonel Sergei Smirina was doing some of his daily paperwork. After the event at the Orbital Elevator, he had been tasked to write a truly massive amount of paperwork, reporting the progress of the construction of defenses around the Elevator and up armoring of the station, ever since that close call with the AEU and the CBs in the area, everyone was scrambling. And as "The Bear of Russia", he rolled his eyes at the very thought of such a stereotypical name, many looked to him for his opinion, so he needed to finish this report before the end of the week.

Focusing on his paper he began speaking into the dictation software again, "The new Internationale's must be upgraded to 2300mm GRA level, at the very least it must be able to defeat the AEU's estimated guided missile, which is 230m, and can be mounted with nuclear grade weaponry or HEAP-P warheads. As well, we'll need to upgrade our ECM and ECCM throughout the tower, doubling the sensors, and upgrading our suite of EW. We can't continue to get by with numbers alone, the AEU and UNION's increasing technological sophistication electronically is getting problematic. If our reports are correct the jammers need to at least be doubled if we're to-" Sergei muted himself when his phone started to ring. "Goddamnit what now?!" He spoke in annoyance, he can't write a damn report if he kept being interrupted by priority calls every half hour.

Taking the receiver off the side of his specially made phone case, he acknowledged, "Yes. This better be really important, we don't pay you to- Really?" He asked in astonishment, his previously annoyance forgotten "Where was it downed? Ceylon... Understood, I'll be there ASAP. Quarantine the salvage if you have not already, and get the scientists there studying it immediately, and send it to the four corners of the earth for god's sake, we're not losing our best bet for a countermeasure in one attack by the Celestial Being. Oh you have already prepared that already? Good, see to it then, you have my authority in that matter, and it's about damn time someone showed initiative, get yourself and your men a drink on me when it's done." Without any more words, the russian colonel hanged up before turning around to his aide sitting beside him working on his bulky laptop and secured work desk. He saw him and nearly a dozen other people staring at him, hope in their eyes. It has been a long time since he has been this alerted.

"Tell the pilot we are changing course to Ceylon."

"Yes sir. What about General Kim's standing order? The "

"General Kim will likely be joining us vodka bottle in hand with a lampshade over his head like last new years" He said with an edge of genuine excitement in his voice.

His aide unbuckled as the murmering in the plane grew loud indeed, "Y-yes sir!" His aide stuttered before running up to the pilot cabin.

"Finally showing your real self? Celestial Being…"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Taribia, Province of Guyana, Georgetown

Master Sergeant Sofia Fortuna

I was riding, believe it or not, in a staff car. Turns out I didn't just get a pay raise and promotion but also my own driver. At least for now, it wouldn't suit a new member of the 1st Squadron to be in a civilian bus. The trip to the capital of Taribia, Georgetown, had been long, moving up and down the mountains, through the jungle on half paved roads where you could see all the wildlife that couldn't be seen anywhere else. They didn't call it the "Taribian Bus Safari" for no reason. However I felt like the trip would have been more comfortable if I had been on a train or in a tank. Not to mention faster.

All her personal electronics had been drained of power on the long trip, and she had to use the Cigarette lighter in the vehicle just to power her cellphone in case she was called. However she and her driver did have the daily rest stop for rest, and in those times I had taken full advantage of any electrical port for my devices. It was also in that time when I had met my new fans as it were. They were few and far between, Taribia lacking the enthusiasm for military affairs like the US, more concerned with basic living than amatuer youtube stars. However something had clicked in me when she saw a kid sitting, watching what looked to be a flight record on YouTube. The title of the clip clearly wrote, "American pilot trash talking a Taribian pilot. Gets owned." I couldn't have helped but smirk, that duel caused a huge improvement in morale for the Taribian military… And a huge embarrassment for the Americans.

But they were taking it in strides and had publicly apologized for the pilot's behaviour, and Union officials aligned with greater unity saw his attitude as an insult to all armed forces regardless of nationality. My title in the news was " _La Calma"_ , or The Quiet One, due to me not speaking throughout the entire exchange despite my radio being on.

I had remained unnamed and unseen for the most part, but privately there were congratulations sent to me from all parts of the Americas. I found myself disliking the attention, and the constant flow of emails in my normally quiet inbox, and had found myself enjoying my time with my driver. Passing over the cigarette he took a drag from it as well. It was nice for a chance to be with someone who didn't care who I was. Even the others from my unit had treated me differently after that day, and I found it unsettling, I had enjoyed knowing my place in the pack, but after that I was put into an unstable limbo, winning when I shouldn't have. I was the orphaned daughter of a poacher, who raised me in the jungle and small villages of the Amazon. A person who enjoyed her line of work, and the lifestyle. Of course, the chance to legally hunt the enemy didn't hurt either I thought with a dark smile.

Taking the cigarette from the driver, the streets were packed here in Georgetown, which reflexively made me sneer, speaking of being a jungle girl, I had always hated cities, they were too claustrophobic, too alien, much too loud, and most importantly too focused on things that didn't matter. It's why I liked my driver, he was quiet, constrained, and had connected with me almost immediately without a word being spoken between us beyond formal pleasantries. Taking a inhalation of the glowing tube, I looked to the GPS, "Good, we're here on time."

He hmmped just loud enough for me to hear it. "If you're still in town later, first round on me at the base bar." I commented passively as we turned into the guard post for the air base. This time he smiled and nodded, with an affirmative grunt. There were two walls to the base, the outer perimeter fence, and the inner concrete barrier with battlements and trenches, Linear rifles and SAM batteries surrounding the encampment aimed to the sky, covered with camo netting.

The gate guards approached us, one made to check the back for me when he found I wasn't there and his partner at the driver waved him over, "Good morning ma'am." He greeted, obviously caught a bit off guard before training and practice reasserted itself, "Papers, please." The other guard came to my side, while another pair of men, one with a german shepherd, came around the car and began to search it for contraband or explosives. I took out my wallet and transfer papers from the passenger's compartment, and handed my military ID and papers to the man. He disappeared with both the Driver's papers and my own. Handing the cigarette back, the driver took a deep puff and released it into the air. The vehicle was a convertible and we had had the top down for as often as we could.

After a few minutes of inspection, the guard standing watch over us spoke, "Unusual for a Master Sergeant to be in a Staff car." The driver offered him the cigarette, and with only a moment's hesitation he took it and inhaled as well, before returning it to the driver who gave it to me, "Yeah, color me surprised. Although, if I had the choice I'd have taken a tank."

"Rebels?" The Guard asked as I took a puff, the last of the cigarette falling away.

"No, personal preference. The roads have always been bad out in the country, and my old Abrams had good suspension." Flicking the butt away, I sighed.

"Well it's nice to finally have someone down to earth as it were. The 1st Squadron guys let it get to their heads." The Sentry commented idly. I nodded in affirmative.

It was then that his partner joined us, "Everything checks out. Welcome to San Jose Air Base Sergeant Fortuna, Major Emmanuel's waiting for you in his office, take the elevator to 4th floor and ask for him." I nodded and gave a lazy salute to the men, who returned it just as lazily.

I cracked a rare genuine smile, "When you guys get off your shift join me and this guy for a few drinks. I'd like to get to know the people around the base." The two men smiled and nodded sagely, "Anyways, until then gentlemen." The smile left my mouth and we drove through the gate.

As the driver took me to the Headquarters building, I couldn't help but think, ' _Here I am, 1st squadron._ ' The 1st Squadron's San Jose Air Base was in a lot better shape than the 4th Squadron's airfield. Here the buildings were at least painted, everything looked modern and top of the line, the base had been constantly modernized as it held the nation's elite squadron that provided the defense for the capital. And provided housing for the Taribian elite's children playing soldier.

Stopping in front of the headquarters, the sentries made to open the rear door when they immediately saw that it was completely empty, only playing host to a pair of duffels, the Driver smiled, exited, and let me out. "Thank you." I replied with a mock curtsy as I stepped out with my papers and ID in hand still.

The two sentries before me were also checking the vehicle once more before accepting my papers and saluting me. Returning it without a thought, I waited in parade rest. I felt a tiny bit self conscious, I was wearing my normal fatigues, and my GI tanktop and sports bra, the heat of nearly midday had forbade anything else in the car and traffic, "Good morning ma'am." The sentry in front of me greeted formally.

I nodded, "Good morning to you too. I must ask does the Major care for speed of assembly or presentation more?" Caught off guard for a second, the sentry who was to greet me thought.

"If you're told to report as soon as you arrive, best to report as soon as you arrive. He's understanding in that regard. I would suggest to put on your uniform jacket however. It can be surprisingly chilly inside." He was evidently very good with his words, his insinuation hit me immediately as I knew exactly what he was implying. Yes, most certainly pull on my jacket from my duffel. And now that I thought of it, use that spray can of cheap deodorant as well. Ah damn! I would actually have to look presentable, now that I thought of my hair which had remained uncut and unwashed for the last three days. It was probably out of service length now too. Ah well.

"Also, one thing, he's been made a Colonel. Promoted just yesterday."

Once my papers were read again, the sentry gave the all clear, "Welcome to San Jose Airbase Master Sergeant Sofia Fortuna, Colonel Emmanuel's waiting for you in his office, in case you weren't informed before, take the elevator to the 4th floor and ask for him." Nodding in confirmation, I looked to my bags, the Driver was back in his car and he gave a nod that he would handle it.

Sighing I nodded to the sentry, "Give me a moment to prepare and I'll be inside."

I did what I could do, pressing my uniform as neatly as I could, rolling down my sleeves, making a bun out of my hair. It looked incredibly awkward on me but it should do the trick. I hurriedly walked past the security and onto the elevator. Pressing the button 4 as the guards said.

"Going up." The speaker announced as the gate started to close when I saw a Taribian officer running towards the closing elevator, "Hold, hold!" He shouted.

Cursing inwardly, I placed my arm at the elevator door, The man barely got in before the door closed once more.

"Thanks." He commented, sighing and sitting up from his slightly hunched position, before he recognized me, "Oh, sorry where's my manners, Lieutenant Gonzalez, Juan Pablo Gonzalez, 1st Squadron." He was torn between a salute and a handshake before he noticed I was not in a dress uniform and that I had a sergeant's chevron, and then defaulted to a shake.

"Master Sergeant Fortuna, Sofia Fortuna." I replied emotionlessly.

"Wait, you're ' _La Calma'_? Really?! I-I'm sorry. I never meant to…"

"Sir, no need to apologize." I replied, keeping the manner and the fact that he's higher up in the rank than I.

"4th Floor." The loudspeaker announced with a serene voice, the gate open and we both rushed through. The Colonel's office was clearly labeled to be at the end of the hallway. It was locked with a "do not disturb sign on it".

"Hold on." Juan said before knocking the door of the office twice, "Colonel, its Gonzalez, I have _La Calma_ with me as well! Can we come in?" The man asked. Oh god I was never going to get used to that name.

The door unlocked loudly and it opened, Colonel Emmanuel looked worse for wear, he had greying hair and was in his fifties at most. Looking at Gonzales with the look a father gave to a son who had repeatedly disappointed him, but was still loved, he saw me and his demeanor immediately improved, motioning for me to enter.

Emmanuel sat down and produced a couple of water bottles before sitting and motioned for me to sit as well, Gonzales remained standing. Me and Gonzalez both took the bottles and had a sip before the colonel spoke.

"Welcome to the 1st Squadron Master Sergeant, I'm Colonel Sebastian Emmanuel, your new commanding officer. I don't need to say it but you're a celebrity around here now." He greeted calmly, relaxing in his chair.

"I was just doing my job, Colonel." I replied, humbly.

He chuckled genuinely, smiling, "Skilled AND humble, I think I may have just won the damn lottery, gotta check my numbers." He sighed, getting serious, folding his hands on his desk and leaning forward, "I don't need to say it, probably heard it from the grunts outside but a lot of the boys around here have big heads, more money than sense types, I have to crack them sometimes, er no offense Gonzalez."

"Naw I understand sir." Gonzalez replied with a chuckle.

"Alright a few tips and notes, you're still enlisted, and you're going to be surrounded by officers in your wing, Gonzales here is your wingmate. Thankfully things around here are pretty locked off, not too uptight, although I try to keep some modicum of discipline in the knuckle heads. From your service record I can see that you're used to that and lead your own wing and were outranked by your wingmates, that's good you have experience and I feel I can trust your judgement. Personally I would have seen you made an officer but…" I nodded, that was a lot of politics to deal with for me to make officership, "Anyways, Gonzales here has a good head despite my earlier comments."

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face before resuming, "But a lot of these kids think they're the best thing since sliced bread, lot of them have just about zero combat experience, and I don't need to mention their lack of focus and military discipline at times. We've had some problems with them hitting on or sexually assaulting female soldiers, now their rich parents have been able to sweep those under the rug with lots of money. But I'll be damned if I get a dead rich kid or you assaulted by them, so if you have any complaints or grievances take them to me immediately and I'll beat the shit out of them for you." Satisfied, Colonel Emmanuel relaxed in his chair, "Other than that I'd like to formally welcome you to the squadron. Do you have any pressing questions?"

I did in fact, "My suit. I didn't get any word on it."

"Perk of the 1st Squadron is you get a Realdo. No. 106. Our squadrons have the VMS-15M variant. Major overhauls in avionics, propulsion and firepower. We're scheduled to receive Union Flags sometimes in the future, not sure when but they are coming." He caught my slight look of disappointment but I perked up almost immediately.

"And how's the ground crew?"

"Best in the service I'd say. Although from your background I'd say you like to know how your suit works in and out. Can't say I blame you, I'd be happy to have at least one of my wing get their damn hands dirty with some grease. Crew Chief Jacen Iganalia is the senior technician, if you have any questions you can talk shop with him." Yeah I could get behind that.

"That's all sir. Thank you." I stood, and saluted.

He saluted while still sitting, "Good, remember, if you need anything let me know, dismissed…. And come to the officers mess tonight, we're having cabidela and brigadeiro, and let me tell you, if the rich kids are worth something, it's for their chefs." I nodded in agreement and left.

Gonzales was eagerly by my side like a hyperactive puppy, "We've been anticipating you here for some time now! Probably a long trip all the way from Venezuela isn't it?" The man asked as we walked down the hall to the elevator

I nodded, "Yes sir. The infrastructure out there isn't as good as it can be."

"No need to be so official Sergeant, we're all friends now. Keep it simple." He explained with what he probably assumed was a winning smile.

Quietly as I took ahead out the door of the administrative building I rolled my eyes, "Excuse my rudeness then…" I apologized, watching a Realdo make a touchdown on the runway.

He hurried to catch up to my brisk pace, perhaps unused to my always hurried and focused manner, "Anyway, some people have been away from base, but I had called them, they should be back by evening so you can meet the gang. Don't mind the colonel, he's right we can can get out hand sometimes but I don't think they'd do anything to you."

"Away, as in on Leave?" not unusual, we weren't at war, and Georgetown was not in any particular danger of anything happening. And with Celestial fucking Being around stopping any fighting an unexpected fight wasn't particularly likely to occur anyways.

"No, we just take our car and leave. It's not like the guards can do anything about it anyway." Gonzales explained blissfully ignorant of the flogging he'd get if he weren't rich. Walking down the tarmac we were both sweating profusely in the hot sun, as I drained the rest of my bottle of water.

"Now I know why…" I thought, remembering what the men at the entrance said before. ' _The 1st Squadron guys let it get to their heads_ ', ' _lack of focus and military discipline_ '. Had they been in the 4th Squadron, the Major would have been so pissed that he would put them on probation and schedule them for disciplinary action for deserting, or otherwise dismiss them completely. But every squadron had their rules, best roll with it. Besides, not much she wanted to do in town anyways.

"What was that?" Gonzalez asked eagerly.

I lifted my voice to go over the whine of the jet engines of the Realdo, "I said who was that!?" I lied.

"Oh! That's Hector Ibanez, son of the Ibanez aeronautical family. He takes his job very seriously, you'll like him I'm sure." Ibanez's Realdo was moving into the hangar, "You're replacing Ana. She'd been scooped up by the Yanks last exercise. Nice pair of sweet chests she had. I don't know whether the Yanks took her away for her skills or that." He joked.

With a twitch of the eyebrow I looked over, "Just make sure to spread the rumor that my last boytoy I had, I castrated after he cheated on me. I want to have a bit of a reputation you understand… By the way, forgive me but who's your family again?"

"Oh uh…" He didn't quite know what to say, until I mentioned his family and he perked as he took up that line, "The Gonzales family I'm proud to say are political civil servants, my father's the governor of a prefecture." He began to go into detail on his family line and his myriad contacts with the government as we entered the barracks.

As we entered the barracks I was not terribly surprised to see we each got our own room, considering they were officers I could see why, but I was particularly happy I wouldn't have to bunk with the rich kids. "Alright your room is right next to mine, it was Ana's room."

Looking in I saw my bags were resting to the right of the door inside. Wonderful. Sighing a bit regretfully however, it was best if I met the rest of the squadron. As Gonzales began giving me the tour, explaining who lived where we finally came upon the perhaps a bit too opulent O-club where everyone was glued to the massive TV screens in the middle.

"Hey guys, guess who-" Gonzales began before being shut down hard.

"Shut up man! You gotta see this, the Pukes actually DID something!"

"I can't believe it. I can't believe it! HRL killing a Gundam!? Next they're gonna say they got a rocket to pluto." One of the ground crew scoffed. He and everyone else downright gasped when they saw footage of a HRL Tieren mobile suit carrying in its hands the head of a mobile suit, the camera then zoomed into its forehead, the letters "GUNDAM" clearly inscribed on it. HRL soldiers and crews were cheering in triumph, and if one looked closely they could see the ground crews and pilots had raised up a man in their arms and were throwing him up and down in congratulations, presumably for achieving the kill.

"This footage is from the island of Ceylon, HRL government officials announced that they'd successfully disabled one of Celestial Being's mobile suits, this Gundam." The news reporter announced as the footage switched to that of the HRL government official announcing to the presses, the aforementioned head in the background on a massive screen. The translation in the bottom. But my eyes were glued to the head.

Particularly the battle damage, "look at the head," I exclaimed aloud, "look at the damage, the paint has been entirely burnt off, its covered in black marks, from the damage it looks like it was smashed by a lot of things, likely rocks. You can kind of see the cutting marks on the neck joints where they TRIED using dueling blades, and it's been shot to hell, the optics have obviously been damaged by what I presume to be autocannon fire." Everyone looked to me as I kept looking at it and muttered, "But it looks like it took a hell of a beating, I'm surprised it hasn't been smashed to scraps."

The reporter translated the man's speech, "On the 4th of November, 2307, 13:00, Indian Standard Time, we, the Human Reform League were illegally assaulted by Celestial Being while protecting our Expeditionary Force's base on the island of Ceylon. While defending themselves as passively as possible against the attacks by the insurgent Sinhalese terrorists, the Korean Wing of the base were savagely and without warning or reason attacked by Celestial Being. Half the wing and their supporting assets were killed or injured before their Thai comrades who had went undetected by these monsters risked themselves to protect their comrades, losing several suits and five tanks before shooting down and then in melee combat proceed to hold it down and disable the vehicle by any means. It was only after the work of half a dozen brave suits, nearly all of their tank complement, and their infantry lacing explosives in the joints that it was crippled. Unfortunately, before the pilot could be captured and punished for his illegal actions, his wingman arrived and took the damaged chassi and retreated. Deaths are at a minimum as our brave soldiers now know they hold every possible advantage over their foe."

A man pushed his way past me, he looked really upset, and held his flight helmet in the crook of his arm. Chewing on his lip in what I had to guess was frustration, he cursed under his breath, "I wanted to be the first to take one down."


End file.
